Something Different in the Air
by Squirrela
Summary: Willy Wonka makes something new in honour of the life of Gene Wilder


A one shot dedicated to Gene Wilder, who loved the character so much, he wanted to be remembered for that role more than any other he played.

I do not own anything from "Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory".

* * *

Willy, a man full of life and vibrancy, wandered through the Chocolate Factory. The evening was dark, the skies were clear, the stars were shining. Willy was full of excitement. He had a new idea. He was also pausing, trying to imbibe something of the wonder. This new idea of his was going to capture some of the wonder of the world. Quirky ideas were fine, most of the time. Sometimes however, you really wanted something that would take your breath away.

Willy had all the time in the world for quirky. This didn't mean he didn't appreciate things that were breathtaking. On foot, he swiftly made his way through the many corridors, he could take the time for that, though often he preferred to take the Wonkavator, but he had too much energy to stand still today; inventing ideas did that to him. A brisk walk was often necessary; it got his imagination working; toned his energy levels down to the optimum required for creating candies.

As a first step he made his way to the large windows that stood on the back wall of the Factory, way up on the fortieth story. He often came up here to look upon the natural world surrounding them. From this vantage point he could see beyond the city, out into the world around it. At night, he could see the stars, stretching out, years of history in each tiny flicker. It was awe inspiring realising that the light of some of those stars were thousands of years old, and that they shone on, millions of years away.

Knowing that those twinkling light balls were visual representations of exploding gases, so inhospitable and blindingly bright, never mind a sure-fire way to reach an untimely end, stopped Willy from regretting that attempting to visit them would take up too many precious months out of his life, never mind the reminder of just how powerful that which is beautiful can be. The visual delight of the water vapour which made up the clouds, could also unleash weather that would thrash the ground, and beat up apparently imperishable objects as if they were no more than a few bent twigs. The stunning beauty that was the snow had the power to kill.

Power therefore had to come along with beauty. How did you represent that in candy? Thinking on the snow reminded him, power and beauty could also be delicate. Each tiny snowflake was a breathtaking, intricate pattern that became indistinguishable in the larger form that was created when many thousands of those snowflakes came together in one big morass. Individually, the snowflakes would melt upon impact, be it with the ground, or with a human hand, so the power was in the many. By themselves, the snowflakes were vulnerable. The strength was in the togetherness of the whole. That was how to make candy powerful, get many and put them together, and they would be as powerful as any word. Willy knew how powerful words could be, and had immense respect for them.

This idea was coming together more and more. Delicate and intricate sugar whisps, sparkling in the sun. Tiny gleaming crystals, easily crushed, but together, they could cut like a knife. Slicing through skin and sinew with barely a moments pause, but the glitter held beauty in it. Like the beauty of the fire. Dancing lights together, wonderful and warming when it was in the grate, but use it the wrong way... The whole world would be fragile in its path. Fragile, and easily broken. Once broken, fading and gone, just like the idea that had burned so brightly but a moment before, had now vanished, dying embers retaining barely any heat.

Looking at the image in front of him, Willy sighed. "It's broken," he murmured, just as he heard the door at the back of the room opening.

"What's broken, Mr Wonka?" asked a clear young voice. Charlie. "My idea," Willy explained. "I wanted to make a candy to remember the passing of Mr Wilder. That man will never know it, but when I was younger, growing up, I used to watch his films, and they inspired me to look for the amusing things in life; to see that which was quirky, and to look for the beauty in each person who surrounded me. He seemed to really care for those he worked with. I admired that, and there were times I tried to emulate that. His life had its many hardships, but he never let that stop him. I wanted to create something out of candy; something that I knew was a tribute to him. But my idea is broken. I can't see it any more."

Charlie smiled at him, a look of trust and adoration that somehow inspired the man to do better.

"Just keep trying, Mr Wonka. I believe in you. If you keep working a little longer, you will come up with something that pleases you."

With that, the boy wished Willy "Goodnight" and the man turned to work many hours on into the night.

Days later, or so it seemed, merely a few hours had passed. Willy emerged with the rising summer sun, a happy smile on his face, something held tight in his hand. He ran through the corridors, a jubilant song on his lips. He knew exactly his destination.

Later, he would swear that he couldn't remember traversing the corridors; one moment he was up on the fortieth floor, the next he was deep under ground, nearing the residential quarters, where the Bucket family stayed. Bursting through the door, he called out: "You did it Charlie, you did it!"

The sleepy boy looked up with bleary eyes and yawned.

"Did what, Mr Wonka?"

""You restored my idea and gave me the way forwards. Look! See!"

Charlie propped himself up, resting his weight on his elbows. Willy held out his hand, lifting the lid on the clear glass box that held the treasure. He held it open so that Charlie could see the bright shining thing that was lying in it. It was a star, edges sharp enough to cut, should you touch it in the wrong way.

What is it, Mr Wonka?" Willy smiled and explained.

"It's an effervescent flavour. Were you to put it in your mouth, the intensity of the star's flavour would tingle so strongly on your tongue that it would feel like it was burning you, but put it in water, the effect of the candy slowly dissolving in the water is a complete delight. The end flavour is divine. The way that the star dissolves is as gorgeous as a sunset, dragging your eye to watch it. The entire effect calls out to the beholder, blending physical beauty with the beauty of the tastebuds. It reminds me of Gene Wilder, bringing enjoyment to all who watched his films, and to each person whose life he touched through his work."

The beauty of the object called for Charlie to reach out and touch it, but seeing the temptation, Willy whisked his hands well out of the way.

"That could hurt!" he warned, the crystallised sugar having been hardened to a point that would remind someone not to touch it carelessly again, before continuing, "I feel like doing something to celebrate, but I don't know what. What would you do, Charlie?"

The boy thought, considering the question carefully. "I think that as much as you want to celebrate, the celebration has to be restrained. Or, rather, it has to be as beautiful as the star is beautiful. Beautiful and delicate and dangerous, as human life can be each of these things." Then he paused. "Let's skip the danger though!' he concluded on a laugh.

A silence fell, seeming to hang round for hours, and yet, be done in moments. "Why don't we go to the chocolate room, and why don't you sing the song you sang the first time you showed me the place. Me, and everyone else who came on the tour, that is."

Willy smiled at his heir. In some ways, he didn't like remembering that day, but in others, he really liked the idea.

Soon they had made their way to the chocolate room, and shortly afterward Willy's dulcet tones rang out:

"Come with me, and you'll be in a world of pure imagination..."


End file.
